


Just Another Rainy Day

by Jael_Lyn



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael_Lyn/pseuds/Jael_Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word is that Cadet Sandburg is having a spot of trouble at the Academy.  The other members of Major Crime aren't pleased, and decide to do what they do best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Rainy Day

Simon Banks watched his son shove his pizza around his plate, gently picking at the pepperoni with his fork. At least half of the order sat neglected in the box. Darryl's behavior meant one of two things - the kid was either deathly ill, or something at the academy had upset him. Since he could detect no signs of illness in his son, the academy was a safe bet. Simon sighed inwardly. He fervently wished Darryl had taken his advice and gotten a few years of college before entering the academy. Maybe he was just too young. Even so, he had several good friends on the teaching staff. One of them would have called and given him a 'heads up' if something was really wrong. At least he thought they would.

"Darryl, you haven't quit at two pieces of pizza since you were four years old. You want to tell me what's bugging you?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm just not very hungry. We can have it for breakfast. I love cold pizza for breakfast."

Simon pushed back in his chair. His boy's body language spoke volumes. "Nice try, son. You get an E for Effort, but your dad knows you better than that. Talk. Are you doing ok in your classes?"

"Classes are fine, Dad. Everything's OK with me. You don't need to worry." 

Simon's eyes narrowed as he considered his son's carefully worded reply. "Let me guess. We're talking about Sandburg, aren't we?" 

"Dad, he asked me not to run to you and Jim every time some little thing came up. Please let it drop. It's not my place to say." 

"No can do. I will give you my word on this, I won't take any action without discussing it with you first." He watched his son fidget in his chair. He could have been 9 years old as easily as 19. 

"Okay, Dad. I guess I just don't get it. Blair's the smartest guy there, but his grades are so bad. He dropped some stuff out of his notebook. The marks on his papers were awful, and I know he knows all the stuff."

Simon considered that little nugget of information. "Well, now, you didn't actually read his work, did you? So you don't really know? Maybe he didn't follow the format or something." Right, thought Simon to himself. The kid can write better than anyone in the department.

Daryl shook his head emphatically. "Dad, he helped me study for those same assignments. He's got the stuff down backwards and forwards. One day this week, he helped me with an answer right before class. Then the instructor asks him the exact same question not ten minutes later, and Blair just won't answer. Says he isn't prepared for that question or some dumb thing. He never volunteers anything in class, and some of our grade is based on participation."

That got Simon's attention. How many times had he wished Sandburg would shut up? Usually right before he spouted something brilliant and insightful and totally out of left field. This didn't sound like the same young man who'd spent three years following Ellison around. "Maybe he's just trying not to call attention to himself," Simon suggested. "Is there anything else?" 

"Well..... yeah. At academy he acts like he doesn't even know me. He won't sit with me or pair off with me for any of the physical training. He eats lunch by himself. He never goes to the locker room - he carries everything with him." Now that was a telling statement. I wonder how many times his stuff got trashed before that started, thought Simon. He remembered vividly his own academy experience, back in the days when racism was not only tolerated, but subtly encouraged. "When we're alone, everything's fine. But in class, around other cadets, he acts like he hates me. He helps me study any time I ask him, but only if we leave. We go to the branch library down at Simmons." Daryl destroyed the remains of his pizza with his for. "Like I said, I just don't get it."

Who would know the captain of Major Crimes was such a coward, thought Simon. You know exactly what he's doing. He looked at his son's earnest expression. "Darryl, I'm not sure I can explain this, but Sandburg knows that he wasn't totally welcome at the academy. There were and are a lot of extenuating circumstances. He probably figures it will just be easier to keep personal relationships to a minimum." He's protecting your son, Simon raged at himself. And you're going to let him, aren't you? Sounds kind of familiar. First Ellison; now you and your boy. "Besides, he probably thinks it's better of you to hang with guys closer to your own age." He patted his son's arm encouragingly. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"I don't know, Dad. It just seems so - I don't know - so wrong. I think the instructors pick on him. He just keeps that blank look on his face and never gets angry. Why doesn't anyone set them straight?"

Why indeed, thought Simon. He watched the ever-present rain streak down his kitchen windows. It reminded him of tears. When it's all over, when the sacrifice is complete, how will Jim and I live with what we've allowed to happen?

The Next Morning

"Ellison, my office." Simon Banks watched his best detective glide across the room, noting the spark that seemed missing. Jim still perked up like a little kid when his partner-to-be showed up at the station. When he was absent, it showed in Jim's mood - and to be honest, showed in his work as well. "Shut the door, Jim. Get some coffee."

"This doesn't sound good, Captain," Jim said. "These days, you only offer coffee if it's bad news. Is this a 'Captain Banks' conversation or a "Simon' conversation?"

"Maybe a little of both." Simon waited as Jim settled with a steaming cup. "Level with me. What does Blair say about the academy?"

"You mean what he says, or what I guess? As far as what he says, not much. I hardly ever see him. He says he has a group he studies with. What brought this on?"

"I have my own clam at home, remember? I got a few pearls from my son last night."

"And you're concerned? Like, let's compare notes concerned?"

"Got it in one, Jim. You first. I rank you."

Jim took a long sip of his coffee and stared into the distance. For a brief moment Simon wondered what he saw; something five miles off or some minor detail on an object within his office. "Like I said, we don't discuss his days. We've gone to the firing range and worked out. I don't think he'll have any trouble qualifying."

"No convoluted Sandburg stories? No ranting about male tribal bonding rituals or some such thing? No discussion of his marks?"

Jim shrugged. "No stories - no rants. As for the marks, I can't imagine what we'd talk about. I'd be willing to bet that Sandburg has never gotten a B in his life. Besides, we both see his reports. He knows procedure and law as well as we do, and he writes better than either of us. If there was a hall of fame for report writing, Sandburg would be in it."

"Consider Pearl Number One. Darryl says he saw Blair's papers when they fell out of his backpack and they were failing."

"What?" Jim straightened up in his chair. "That's about as likely as a heat wave in Cascade. Darryl must be mistaken."

"I don't think so, Jim. He also says Blair dogs questions in class, even when he knows the answers. To the point that he helps Darryl study and then claims he isn't prepared for the same question. I had to pry this out of the boy; I think he's telling me the truth." Jim looked totally stunned. "Simon, he's a natural teacher. He can't walk into a classroom without participating, body and soul. I expected - you know - the firearms to be a problem. Or that his size or temperament might be a drawback in self-defense. But class? The written work? That never occurred to me."

"We've got two possibilities. I don't like to admit it, but the instructors might not evaluate his work fairly. A lot of people weren't happy with him being there. I know most of the instructors and I hate to think any of them would be party to anything like that."

"And the second?"

"He's doing it to himself. Submitting inferior work. Be honest Jim, would that be easier that facing us and telling us this wasn't what he wanted. We dumped this on him in a very public way at a traumatic moment."

Jim expression changed completely. "No. He wouldn't do that. He told me that he's at peace with this - that he wouldn't change anything." Jim looked stricken. "Oh God, Simon. Wouldn't he tell me if he was that unhappy?" The look on Ellison's face was an answer in itself. When pushed past the surface, Jim wasn't sure. Simon decided to press on. "Here's Pearl Number Two. Blair helps Darryl study, but not on campus. They go to a public library. At the academy, Darryl says Blair won't acknowledge him." 

"Okay, there might be several explanations for that." Jim's eyes narrowed. "What else, Simon? There's more."

"You're a detective. What would you conclude if I told you that Blair doesn't use his locker and seems to shy away from the other cadets? Sound like our gregarious anthropologist to you?"

Simon watched as Jim set the coffee down and and his body tensed. He looked ready to pounce. "The easiest explanation is that he's being harassed. Avoiding Darryl to keep from having him catch any of the fallout. Avoiding me so I don't ask too many questions. Hoping he can slide by and move on."

"If the cigar in my pocket wasn't a Cuban, you'd be a winner."

Jim stood up. "That does it. I'll talk to him. He can only obfuscate so far with me."

Simon pointed and Jim sank back into the chair. "No, you won't. And I won't go barging into the academy, demanding to know what's going on. We need something more subtle." Simon began to play with a pen on his desk, tapping with one end gently as he spoke. "You know, Ellison, you have a reputation as a not very subtle guy. I, on the other hand, know you better." He answered his detective's sly smile with an evil one of his own. "Get out that Special Forces Beret, my man. It's time to do a little covert ops, Major Crimes style."

Later that day.

"Taggart. Glad you're back. I need to see you in my office. Soon as you can."

Joel juggled the stack of files in his hand and gave his old friend a half wave. "Be right there, Simon. Let me get rid of these." He quickly trailed Simon across the bull pen.

"I have a new coffee for you to try," commented Simon. He glanced at Joel over his shoulder. "Not like the old days, is it? Two kids getting break-room coffee that could eat-out the inside of the cup?"

Joel chuckled. "Not the only thing that's changed. My waistline being one of them."

The two men took a seat. "You still have that offer from the academy to do seminars on bomb procedures?"

Joel looked slightly wounded. "Yeah. They wanted additional training for rookie street officers. Securing the scene, recognizing potential dangerous situations. They wanted me one or two weeks every couple of months. I didn't give them an answer because I didn't want to be out of Major Crime so much." He continued in a softer voice. "You were in agreement, or at least I thought you were. Simon, if there's a problem with my work, you don't have to find excuses to have me somewhere else. Just tell me."

Simon sat down his cup sharply. This wasn't what he intended at all. "Joel, there's nothing wrong with your work. Everyone's glad to have you here; you're a great addition. If you're agreeable, I'm willing to _spare_ you. I have a very specific reason for wanting you at our illustrious training facility at this particular moment."

Joel leaned forward slightly, concern covering on his broad face. "Let me guess. We're talking about Sandburg, aren't we." Simon nodded. "Damn. Who do I need to sit on? Figuratively or literally?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I got a few tidbits out of Darryl that I didn't like. You and I both lived through our share of harassment and discrimination. Think you can still pick it out from the general routine?"

"Once you've had that on the radar screen of life you never lose it," Joel answered with a frown. "I suppose Blair never says a word."

"You know, when Darryl finally talked to me, it brought up a lot of bad memories. I think you know the ones I'm talking about." Simon continued. "I also promised Darryl I wouldn't take any 'action' without discussing it with him."

"You old dog. I seem to vaguely remember this Simon Banks. Splitting a few hairs to get where he wanted to go."

"Being the concerned and observant commanding officer that I am, Joel, I think your knee's acting up a bit. You know, the old Kinciad gunshot wound, damp weather and all. A two week break off the street would give it just the rest you need."

Joel set down his coffee cup with a knowing look. "Just let me go find my aspirin and I'll be on my way."

"Oh, Taggart? Work on the limp, old man."

*****

"Hand me that stapler, Rafe." Henri Brown added yet another announcement to the break room bulletin board. "You took care of the precincts?"

"Yeah. This morning. Rhonda's got numerous connections in low places." He glanced around nervously. "Ooops. Don't tell her I said that." 

"You owe me partner. We both know that Simon may yell louder, but the one at the footstool of the Almighty is Rhonda. This place would collapse without her. You know, these posters don't look half-bad. I wish Hairboy was here. All those computer lessons he's been giving me have paid off."

Rafe snorted. "You made a flyer, H. That does not make you a techno-genius."

"Hey, show a little respect. I used two different fonts and put the little basketball picture in." Henri stepped back to look at his masterpiece. "I think it's brilliant."

"I don't care if it's brilliant, I just hope it works. The head of physical training at the academy thought the whole idea was just the best. To quote, "What a great way to get our future officers to interact casually with their future colleagues." Assured me that every one of the cadets would sign up for a team." 

"Excellent. We don't have to tell him that all the teams will have one of us as a member. I think we'll find out what Simon wants to know."

The Following Day

"Officer Connor, I'm pleased to meet you." Her host stood, offering his hand across the desk. "I don't think we've ever had an exchange officer formally visit the Academy."

"I'm grateful you agreed to let me drop in, Commander Williams. It should be very enlightening to compare the Cascade Police Academy with Australian training methods." Megan gave the older man her very best smile. "As you know, I'm particularly interested in speaking with the female cadets. Preparing women to join the police force in any country is a unique and exciting undertaking."

"Well, we've provided an office for you just down the hall, and arranged an interview schedule with all our current female cadets. I hope you'll join the rest of the staff for lunch so you can get acquainted. I've arranged for lunch to be brought in if you're available today."

"Absolutely. How very kind of you."

"Well, let me show you to your temporary office."

As they strolled down the brightly-lit hallway, Megan's thoughts to wandered, and a small smile crossed her face. Blair could probably give a nice anthropological explanation for what she was about to do. Something along the lines of female sub-groups bonding together in a male-dominated environment. What I'd really like to know, she thought, is what Ellison the great is up to?

Later That Week

"Well, Joel Taggart. Good to see you. Great presentation this morning."

Joel enthusiastically returned his old friend's hand. "Nice to see you, Will. Didn't notice you in the audience."

"Oh, I was there. Lurking in the back. Sit down and have some coffee." The two men made their way over to one of the three couches in the Staff Lounge at the Academy. "Taggart, you just don't realize how meaningful it is to have field officers work with the cadets. Are you going to make this a regular routine?"

Joel set down his coffee with a grin. "Haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll make up my mind after getting through this stack." He indicated a sheaf of papers he had tossed onto the cushions between the two men.

"Good idea to have them write on a scenario right after you talk to them. Let's you find out if they really heard anything. More than the usual effort we get out of visiting instructors."

Joel chuckled. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. When I look at this pile of papers I'm not so sure." He selected one off the top of the stack. "Do me a favor. Why don't you skim through a couple of these and tell me how they stack up against their regular course work."

The two passed the next twenty minutes in companionable silence. Joel wondered how long it would take one of them to reach Sandburg's essay, which he had sifted toward the top. At last he recognized Blair's distinctive scrawl at the top of the stack. He was about to reach for it when his companion lifted it from the stack, disgust displayed plainly across his wide features. He tossed it aside and was about to reach for the next one in line when Taggert interrupted him.

"What's the deal, Will? You want me to read that one?"

"Don't bother. The guy shouldn't be here."

Joel kept his face impassive, swallowing his anger. Come on - you can make this work, he thought to himself. "What's his problem?"

"You've heard of him. The fraud that got kicked out of Rainier. Read his first two papers for Criminal Procedure and it was obvious Ellison was doing his work. Can't prove it, so I just toss 'em into the stack with a C-. Most of the other instructors do the same."

Perfect, thought Joel. Just perfect. Keeping his voice indifferent despite his irritation, he answered. "Hey, they wrote these in class. No chance to get advice. Why don't you take a look? See how it compares with his other work. I'd sure appreciate your impressions."

Again they read in silence. Joel surreptitiously watched as Will reached the second and then the third page. "Pretty good. Actually better than pretty good." He returned the paper to Joel. "I sort of hate to admit, but Sandburg's paper is much better than the others."

"I don't know, Will. You still have access to the stuff you've already graded?"

"Yeah. We keep copies of everything they do as part of their permanent training file. So maybe I ought to give the guy's work a second look, is that what you're telling me?"

"Nope. I'm just going to tell you what Simon Banks told me. That it was the happiest day of his life when 'the observer' started writing Ellison's reports. That was almost four years ago. We've known each other a long time, Will. I think your conscience will do the rest."

The two men exchanged thoughtful looks. Will Sanders rose, stretched and headed for the door. "I'll be seeing you around. Guess I'd better stop by the student office and take a peek at Sandburg's file. How about lunch tomorrow?"

"Sounds good, but only if you buy dessert. I'll see you."

Will Sanders paused at the doorway and turned back toward his friend. "Oh, Taggart? If this pans out, I'll be passing the word along, if you get my drift." With a wave he disappeared down the hall.

"Oh, I'm counting on it," whispered Joel. "I'm counting on it or I'll have to read every one of those damn papers to you out loud.

*****

The four young women in Megan's temporary office broke into gales of laughter again. Megan had to admit she was enjoying herself. She needed these cadets to trust her. If sharing a few funny stories about Australia and her own trainee days did the trick, well, so much the better. Things were about to get a bit trickier. She needed every edge she could get.

"Next topic, ladies. What's been the most difficult aspect of your training thus far?" Megan listened carefully, going from one woman to the next, taking notes as she saw fit. Most of the responses were typical and not much different than you would hear from male cadets. In truth, not very different than the answers she would have gotten if she asked the same question in Australia.

"Before we go on, I'd like to remind all four of you that what you say here is completely confidential. I'm not writing a report for the Cascade PD or anything like that. This is purely for my information as an exchange officer. In some respects Australia may not be as 'liberated' as the U.S., so I'm really just asking for comparison. Have you encountered any situations where you were treated unfairly or differently because you are females?"

The group fell silent for a few moments, as Megan expected. Despite the disclaimer, it was always hard to judge whether answering honestly was worth the risk. She waited calmly; it was too early to prod. Theresa Martin, who was a recent graduate from Rainier in Criminal Justice, spoke first.

"Actually, it's been pretty decent. Not much different than you might expect in any work place. I expected worse - some of these guys are pretty macho. Even if they might not want me as a partner, at least they haven't given me any grief." The others nodded, except for Alisa Williams, the most reserved of the four.

"Alisa? What's on your mind? You don't have to hold back."

"I was just thinking. I bet there are a certain number of people in every cadet class who bully and hassle ones that 'don't belong' in their eyes. Theresa's right, nobody's bothered us, but...." She looked away as her voice trailed off.

"And?" prompted Megan.

Alisa finally returned her gaze. "Well, that doesn't mean they aren't after someone else."

"Anyone specific?" Talk to me, children, thought Megan. Talk to me.

"This guy named Sandburg," volunteered Beth Graden. "He's in my Procedures class. He doesn't say much, but he helped me out with this form thingy I was having trouble with. Just breezed right through it, but was really nice about it. Anyway, I happened to notice him in the gear room one day, rinsing out all his stuff. Someone had dumped honey and flour all over the stuff he'd left in his locker."

Alisa, apparently feeling more confident, chimed in. "I was on my way home one night and his car was in the parking lot with all four tires flat. I offered him a ride, but he said no. I think he took the bus or something."

"Is this common knowledge, or did you two just happen to be in the right place?"

"I think everyone knows," said Theresa. "He was in some hassle at Rainier before he entered the academy. This one group of guys doesn't think he deserves to be here."

"Has this Sandburg complained? Do you think anyone has spoken up for him, or reported the harassment?"

Silence. Well that answers my question, doesn't it, thought Megan.

"I wasn't sure it was any of my business," stated Theresa. "After all, if he doesn't say anything, why should I?"

"I wonder, " said Alicia with a troubled tone. "I wonder if we'd feel differently if it was one of us? And as for it being none of our business, I'm not real comfortable with the idea of working with any of these guys some day. If they'll bully a fellow cadet, why wouldn't they do the same to a civilian in the line of duty?"

The Weekend

The gym at the Cascade PD fitness center rang with the echo of bouncing basketballs. Twelve teams, split into two divisions, were working their way through a schedule of round-robin games. Sports drinks and snacks were laid out in an adjoining room, allowing players not on the court to relax, plan strategy and visit. Each team had an average of three cadet trainees from the Academy. Less noticeable was the presence of at least one member of Major Crimes on each team.

The conspirators had come a hair's breadth from not getting Sandburg to the event at all. It had taken some very creative maneuvering on the part of Ellison and Banks to get him there. They had stooped to manufacturing a last minute cancellation on one of the teams to prevail upon Sandburg. That knee injury of Taggart's was really giving him fits.

The event served two purposes. The casual interaction over the daylong tournament quickly pinpointed the individuals in the anti-Sandburg brigade. As it turned out, they were a painfully small group. A secondary benefit was that Blair, in the presence of people he considered friends, gradually lost his withdrawn, melancholy Academy persona. As the day wore on, the young man's true personality became apparent, much to the surprise of some of his fellow cadets. Jim did enough discreet listening to note a slow thaw in the ice separating Sandburg from many of his other classmates. 

The day ended with the crowning of the championship team, along with a host of silly awards and door prizes. Joel Taggart won "Worst Attempted Dunk" despite sitting out regular team play; Darryl and Simon Banks won Best Father-Son teammates. The fact that they were the only father-son combination in the gym didn't seem to dampen their glee. The entire group ended up at a Spaghetti Factory down the street. Jim noted that Blair and Darryl ended up at a table with two very attractive classmates and three other cadets. He was especially gratified to watch the first real smile he had seen in months on his roommate's face.

Two Weeks Later

"I'm glad to see that your appetite is better this time. The last time you were over for dinner you ate like a bird."

"Dad, you exaggerate. Besides, I ate it all the next morning." Darryl reached across the box to snag another slice of his favorite. "Have you talked to Blair lately?"

"No," answered Simon. Let this be good news, he thought. "Any particular reason?"

"Well, he had a meeting with the head dude at the Academy. " 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Darryl."

"Well, I can't chew fast enough. Anyway, they called him out of class and everything. I was scared to death, you know. I think he was, too." He hopped up to snag another drink out of the fridge.

"Well? Don't start and leave me hanging."

"What? Oh, Blair. Well, I practically sat on him after class, and he said they had reevaluated some of his papers and he was going to get a better grades. He seemed real relieved."

Simon tried to keep the grin off his face. Thank you, Taggart. "What else is new with our officers of the future? No cars slaughtering pylons on the driving course?"

"Ah, Dad, the reports of those little mishaps are SO untrue."

"So you're not going to tell me about the pylons you slaughtered?" Darryl choked in mid-swallow. "I'm a Captain, boy. People tell me things."

"No, Dad. I don't want to talk about the pylons. We had two guys drop out, though."

"Really? Anyone I know?"

"Doubt it. They were jerks. I think some of the ladies know why they got bounced, but they aren't saying much. I thought all women gossiped?"

"No more than men, my boy. Your mother would have your head for a comment like that."

"I know,' replied Darryl with a sheepish grin. "Dad, I know you said you wouldn't meddle, but did you ever think about saying something about Blair? You know, to set people straight?"

Simon had to smile. "Nope. Never said a word. I promised, remember. How about another piece of pizza?"

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Mackie's Idol Pursuits. Thank you, Mackie, for giving them a home for so long.


End file.
